For This Moment
by Doggiegal
Summary: [30 oneshots, 30 kisses] To her credit, she didn't cry, not once. [2 out of 30 completed]
1. red

_red_

Written by Doggiegal

The first time he saw her wearing red after the incident in Nibelheim had been at one of AVALANCHE's "after-parties". It had been a week or two before his first mission; Barret, Wedge, Biggs, and Jessie had gone. She'd actually stayed here with him, despite his constant reassurances that he'd be fine watching Marlene in her absence. She fretted after them both constantly, so he wasn't really too surprised.

It was a beautiful crimson red dress, a blood red dress. He'd seen her covered in blood once before, back in Nibelheim, amidst all the fires and chaos, Sephiroth had stabbed her—harmed her—killed her, or so he'd thought, and when he found her broken and beaten and half-dead, he'd cried more than he'd ever cried before, sobbing and pleading for her to be all right, and he'd loved her with his heart, his blood-pumping heart, like the one that sustained Tifa even as she bled to her death…

He hadn't realized he was nauseous until after he'd thrown up all over the dress he'd been staring said. He felt like an idiot and a jerk (idierk? jidiot?) afterwards, apologizing and helping her clean up. He explained that all the blood had made him sick, and she gave him a concerned look.

After that, she never wore red again.

* * *

_**AN: Just a drabble on why Tifa wore a blue dress when Cloud came to save her from Don Corneo's place. Because I'm sure the events from Nibelheim scarred him too, if only because she and his mother were both harmed in it. **_

_**-Doggiegal**_


	2. Funeral for the Future

_Funeral for the Future  
_By Doggiegal

For the longest time, there was silence. Then—quietly, quietly—a lone figure entered the beat-up old building. No one could honestly call it beautiful, not now; it was all but falling apart. But it was still a sacred place—especially to _him_—so the brunette beauty could not help but feel intimidated by this old, broken church. There was a pond—it was too big to be a mere puddle, so pond it was—in the middle, and flowers surrounded it. The pews and such were demolished from her earlier battle with Loz, but it was almost unnoticeable. The waters—her healing rain—had healed the Geostigma when all hope had been lost. Really, that in itself overshadowed everything else.

Still trying to be as silent as possible—whether out of respect or as to avoid being caught trespassing in the church, she wasn't sure—, Tifa meandered over to one of the few intact pews and sat down. She'd been here not too long ago, when she'd followed Cloud on one of his so-called deliveries. He'd gone to the church instead, causing her to wonder how many—if any—of his deliveries were real. Really, that boy was lucky she was so in love with him. Otherwise, he'd probably be out on the street, judging from all the crap she'd put up with so far.

_'Was it worth it?' _she asked herself. She knew Cloud didn't love her; there was no way he could. All his time had been spent doting on Aeris (although, to be honest, she really did need extra attention. She couldn't fight worth beans), even after the flower girl had died. And Tifa, loyal, caring Tifa, had waited patiently for him each time. _'Perhaps it was time that changed,'_ she thought. She was tired of waiting around for him.

It was ironic, really, that she was wearing all black—as if in mourning. But then again, weren't they all—especially Cloud? Cloud didn't wear much black, but she had a suspicion that he didn't really notice what clothes he wore. He didn't even change his outfit until Tifa had hidden all his SOLDIER uniforms (the amount he had was ridiculous; Zack must've _really_ liked them) and bought him new clothes. He was so busy grieving over his dead girlfriend (of sorts) to notice.

There were times that Tifa thought that she was more of a nanny or mother to Cloud than anything else. She had helped him figure out his true identity (well, granted, it was her fault he was so confused in the first place), nursed his wounds, and cared for him. God, it was as if she'd earned the title of "unmarried housewife". That was a paradox or oxymoron (or maybe both?) or something, she knew, but that's how it felt. She was a single mother raising three kids.

"I love Cloud! I love him so much!" Before she could think about it, her secret betrayal slipped out of her traitorous mouth. She had loved Aeris's love, and even though she could not have him she still felt like it was being unkind to the religious girl's memory. Tifa had been there first, but Aeris had had the blessing of her God or Cupid or maybe even Venus/Aphrodite or _whatever_ deity arranged matches for the humans. The way she saw it, Aeris's soul had been Cloud's soul's mate, not hers.

Whenever she was feeling particularly bitter or depressing, she couldn't help but wonder if the Aeris everyone loved was just all made up. Aeris—the _girl_ Aeris—had been no real martyr, by her standards. Death hadn't ever been a possibility for her. She had been certain that she would return. She hadn't embraced death; it had embraced her. There was certainly a difference. Cloud, like a majority of the populous, could adore the fake, martyristic Aeris instead of the human, faulty one. Aeris had been no saint, that was for sure. The fact that she had, in essence, stolen Cloud from Tifa was proof enough. She could be quite vain, and loved to play the damsel in distress card just so everyone would make a big fuss over her. No way was Aeris perfect.

Sighing, the barmaid stood and walked over to the flower field. She plucked a solitary rose from its comfortable position near the holy pond. It was a beautiful rose, much like herself, to be honest. Unlike Tifa, however, the rose had sharp thorns and these thorns dug into her hand. They cut the skin, and blood flowed from the wound. It was almost symbolic of her badly beaten heart. Tifa made no motion to pull the thorns out, but instead tightened her grip on the rose, causing her to bleed more. But the pain still didn't register to her.

Compelled by something she couldn't name, she turned her face to the sky, a bittersweet smile on her face. _'You win, Aeris,' _she thought. _'He loves you. _Cloud_ loves _you_, the flower girl/faux martyr. Not me, his best friend/barmaid. I'm…I'm done now. I love Cloud, and I always will…but I'm done. He won't let me in…he's so distant. He's rarely home, and I'm sick of putting my life on hold for him. The kids and I need to find our _own_ happiness, even if Cloud doesn't want to be part of it. I'm moving on.' _She kissed the rose before casting it adrift on the pond, symbolizing her newfound freedom.

To her credit, she didn't cry, not once.


End file.
